


Surrender to the Horizon

by allthewaytoerebor



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst, BAMF Arwen Undómiel, BAMF Bilbo Baggins, BAMF Éowyn (Tolkien), Blood and Gore, Epic, Epic Battles, Epic Love, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff, Inspired by Pirates of the Caribbean, JUST EPIC, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mixed-Up Middle Earth Geography, Mutual Pining, Psychological Trauma, Thorin is a Softie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:08:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24667363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthewaytoerebor/pseuds/allthewaytoerebor
Summary: Bilbo has never had use for his courage. It's been rotting in a chest along with his mother's pirate-treasure for ages.What will it take for him to pick it up again?Thorin has never learnt to let go. His load takes a toll he has become accustomed to; he's in constant conflict with his wraiths.What will it take for him to yield?Sometimes one only needs to trade load in for treasure.This is a story about an epic quest for pirate-gold, love, and surrendering to the horizon.
Relationships: Arwen Undómiel/Éowyn, Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Dwalin/Nori (Tolkien), Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf
Comments: 41
Kudos: 51





	1. Harbour

**Author's Note:**

> AAAAA. The first chapter is finally up!
> 
> I've been working on this fic for almost a month now, taking notes and coming up with the plot.
> 
> In the long run, this is gonna be a looong and thorough fic with loads of adventure, angst, pining and just allover epicness.
> 
> I just wanna clear up a few things before we get into the story: the geography in this au is based off of middle earth, but there are a few major changes to the locations. Many of the locations are islands (for example, Rohan is its own island). In general, there's a loooot of sea.
> 
> It's also based off of Thorin and co's journey, but with added characters, plot twists and a different route/different obstacles. 
> 
> Lastly, the characters are pretty much the same as in canon, except for a few physical alterations (to make it more pirate-y). Character's backstories and emotional health are also changed.
> 
> Phew. I'm sorry for making you read all of that!  
> Without further ado, hope you enjoy this first chapter of Surrender to the Horizon!
> 
> Many thanks to Ju for beta'ing this chapter <3

Thorin didn’t like being on land. If they lingered in a harbour longer than a few days he started to get restless, tired of all the noises of a town, all the people chatting at the dock, the carts rolling by, the horses’ hoofs clicking and clacking against the grey bricks on the streets. 

In other words, being away from the sea made him agitated. He easily longed for it – the wild and deep waters. The blue and unknown, the green and well known, the excitement of facing the horizon.

He groaned. The deck of his ship was emptied of people. His crew were on land hunting game and getting supplies, leaving him alone on The Valiant.

The Valiant had been at dock for the entirety of ten hours by now. Ten long, dragging hours, full of boredom and tediousness. There wasn’t much to do except waiting. Tasks such as inspecting the sails and counting goods and treasure were of course necessary, and had to be done when they were in the shelter of a harbour, but they were quickly completed when done by a crew as effective as Thorin’s. 

The time remaining was usually spent relaxing, or for some of his crew members, at brothels in town. Thorin had never felt a pull towards the whorehouses, he had no time to spend on meaningless sex and excessive drinking. He had too much responsibility to suffice on wasting away on simple pleasures.

Therefore, he often took the time not spent occupied with work to just be still and think. 

It became awfully stale, standing on deck looking out on the harbour, dreading the sight of it. But it was the only thing he knew how to do. It was what he relied on. It gave him space; it gave him room to clear his mind and ruminate his past, present and future.

He noticed the forest peeking up behind the edge of the town. The green bloom contrasted against the pale white and grey houses, which became perpetual in the town; there were only a few buildings painted vibrantly red, yellow, blue or green to be seen.

He then shifted his gaze towards the horizon. It called to him, he knew that he needed to get back on the ocean and hoist The Valiant’s sails again soon.

Thorin felt as though his ship, just like him, could not stand it, that she tried to break free from the ropes restraining her to the dock. That she also carried the responsibility of the crew, that she had endured all horror with Thorin and been left with the same scars as him.

He’d been captain of The Valiant for longer than he’d liked it to have been. Not that he Disliked being captain of such a glorious ship, no, he just wished he’d have the title and ship handed down to him later rather than so soon.

He could still remember the vessel being passed on to him ever so clearly; the memory of it would often come creeping back when he was ruminating.

_ “Thorin – I have fallen.” Thrór spoke weakly.  _

_ The aftermath of the battle was all around them, the smell of spilled blood still hanging in the air. _

_ Thorin tightened his grip around his grandfather, supporting him on his shoulder. He could feel how much he struggled to breathe, and how he flinched when he exhaled a bit too hard. _

_ “Grandfather! I will see you recovered!” _

_ “No!” the captain coughed blood, “I am leaving this world now. my wounds are beyond the power of healing,” _

_ Thorin despaired. His face slid into apocalypse, his voice broke, “No...I refuse to believe it…” _

_ “Listen to me, grandson!” He ushered Thorin. _

_ “I leave The Valiant in your stead.” _

_ Thorin exhaled slowly, trying to keep the tears from exiting his eye. _

_ “Your father is gone, Thorin. You and Dís are the only ones I trust with my ship. Promise me, Thorin! Promise me you’ll take good care of her, that you will honour her and guide her through all obstacles!” _

_ “I – I promise, grandfather. You know I will naught but respect her wholly,” he said with ernest. The duty of captaining The Valiant was a honourable commitment, one he now felt mature and trustworthy of; one he now needed to be mature and trustworthy for. _

_ “You’re going to make one blast of a captain,” Thrór gathered his strengths to give his grandson a smile. _

_ Thorin smiled sadly as Thór struggled to take his captain-hat off and place it on Thorin’s head. _

_ “You’ve earned it. Does it fit?” _

_ Thorin adjusted the brown hat of leather. “Aye. A bit large, but I’ll grow into it.” _

_ “Aye, a large head is something no Durin can escape,” he laughed. It turned into a coughing fit, a mess of blood being made around his mouth.  _

_ “Fili and Kili,” Thrór spoke once more, “I trust you’ll help Dís with them?” _

_ Thorin felt a new sting of pain as he recalled that his sister Dís’ husband, Vili, had also fallen during the battle. _

_ “Aye.” _

_ A few minutes went by. It was exceptionally peaceful, the quiet after the storm. The deck of The Valiant was covered in bodies. Bodies of both crews, of Thrór’s and of the enemy’s. Blood had seeped into the wood of the deck. Separated limbs were flung all over the deck, far away from the torsos they belonged to, too many to count, too many to ever be able to collect and reunite with their owners. _

_ None of the remaining crew were clean. Their mournful faces were splattered with blood, so were their hair and otherwise dirt-stained clothes.  _

_ There wasn’t any cheer to be found. It was to be just as impossible to find the dead members of the crew among the chaos of corpses. _

_ Thorin felt sick. It was peaceful now, quiet (Except for the sobbing of The Valiant’s remaining crew), the sun was setting, the sea was blank. But no matter the surroundings, the brutal scene on the deck was far too grotesque to be overlooked. _

_ His grandfather drew his breath one last time.  _

_ The silence following his last inhalation seemed to pierce the air. It jabbed Thorin’s heart, it slapped his face, it pushed the tears dwelling in his eyes down his cheeks; they came tumbling down like rocks on the mountainside. His vision blurred as the screams soaring up his hoarse throat became a cluttered mess along with his sobs, the tears wetting his cheeks reaching his mouth, twisting and twirling in his wailing. _

Thorin adjusted his hat.

It fit him. 

It fit him perfectly.

It had taken a few years before he finally grew into it. They were long years, not only of space to fill in his grandfather’s hat, but of space to fill in his heart, in Dís’s heart, in his crew’s worn out spirits.

Thorin closed his pale, ocean-blue eyes and sighed. The sigh ebbed into the soft wind, which mangled his long, weary, dark-brown hair, and gently caressed his tidy beard.

Thorin never grew his beard out longer than an inch. It was important to him that he didn’t let himself go, that he didn’t treat himself to his wishes. He feared it would make him self-indulgent, and that in the process he’d stop caring about his responsibilities for his family and crew.

“Brother,” Dís called strongly as she boarded The Valiant. Thorin turned around quickly, his state of contemplation evaporating. 

“There is someone here who wishes to speak with us,” his sister continued, nodding towards the odd looking man walking behind her.


	2. Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo gets an unexpected visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter is here!  
> I hope you enjoy reading it!
> 
> Again many thanks to Ju for beta'ing <3

Bilbo Baggins awoke to the fresh sunlight of a new day gracing his face. 

He squinted. A few minutes passed before he managed to drag his drowsy body out of the comfort of his bed. he got dressed and went over to the window, where the sun was shining through, basking the room in light.

Fresh air seeped into the room as he opened the window to its full extent. It was a beautiful day; the rising sun reflected on the many rooftops of Hobbiton, bringing out the roofs with red bricks among the many covered with pale-grass.

Bilbo’s home was on the second floor, above his shop. From where his bedroom was placed he had an neat view of Hobbiton. As his bookshop was on the colony’s outskirts, It overlooked much of the town. 

The side of his house that faced the colony saw much business throughout the day. His streeet was close to the market, and people often passed by, either because they were on their way from their shabby homes to the market, or because they came to visit his or someone else’s shop. Along the street bakeries, boutiques, workshops, a butchery and a smithy were lined up. Bilbo was the only one who sold books in Hobbiton. This made him quite occupied with work, he had customers coming in from all over the colony looking for all kinds of literature. And he did sell all kinds of literature, prints from all corners of Middle Earth. 

However, Bilbo did not only work as a bookshop owner – he had customers seeking out another profession. Among criminals, Bilbo was well known for his sleek method of burglary, and when he deemed it moral and the price was right, murder for hire. He was very handy with a switchblade and light on his feet.

The opposing side of his orange-painted house faced the lush forest which covered most of the island. Bilbo often thought of how lucky he was that there had never been any houses built beyond his.

He had a tender little garden there, one that lay few steps from the wild of the untamed forest. 

In his garden Bilbo had a small crop, where he grew tomatoes, potatoes, lettuce and eggplants. Along the wall there were flower-beds consisting of white, red, purple and yellow orchids, and freesias and roses of just as many colours. 

The time Bilbo didn’t spend working, he spent in his garden. It was peaceful there, the sounds from the street on the other side were almost inaudible, and wouldn’t be noticed as the sounds of a river running by, breeze in the gentle trees and birdsong covered it up.

Bilbo started his day by grabbing a book and going out into his garden. He made himself comfortable in the humbly rusted chair that was placed beside an equally rusted table. Inhaling deeply and smiling, he enjoyed the shade that was present behind his house in the early morning and the ambience of the forest.

He indulged in his book. In the chapter Bilbo read, the hero’s ship was taken over by the villains, and he had to fight them off and save his crew. Moments came and went, and Bilbo read on.

Eventually, he got to the end of the chapter. The hero had been successful, the day had been saved. Bilbo looked up from his book and sighed. More and more often he found himself fantasizing about having an adventure of his own. The forest called to him, it invited him into its mystique.

But more inviting was the sea. Hobbiton had a beautiful coastline and a harbour of its own. Sometimes he spent hours looking through his bedroom window at the boats that came and went, the big ones that carried merchandise, the fishing boats, the few ones belonging to the royal navy, the privately owned boats.

And then his gaze would be captured by the horizon. He couldn’t see much of it as there were many small islands off the shore of Hobbiton, but from his window he could catch a small glimpse of it, a little promise of open sea staring daringly back at him.

He forgot to breathe sometimes when he had staring contests with it. It would take almost a minute before he gasped for air, too absorbed in the thought of open sea to remember how to breathe. 

Now he found himself in quite a similar state. Bilbo was brought back from his daydream by the sound of the book hitting the ground; it had slipped from his grip as a result of his fantasizing. He picked it up and hummed. What a beautiful thought it was, that he had the ocean so close and it was so welcoming. 

Then he realised that his fantasy was nothing more than a fantasy, and the curve of his lips was replaced by a sigh.

_ No,  _ he thought,  _ I am completely content here. _

“And safe,” he spoke out loud to himself.

“Safe?”

Bilbo jumped as he heard someone speak behind him. He quickly turned, bewildered, and saw an utterly strange elderly man stepping through the door and into his garden. The man wore a long, gray embroidered coat, a glittering silver scarf over his similarly long and gray beard, and a pointy hat. 

“I ask you, Bilbo Baggins, is safe something you wish to settle for? Do you wish to stay here, safe, yes, but still?”

“Excuse me? Who are you? DO I KNOW YOU?” He panicked. What was this stranger doing here? Did he intend to harm Bilbo? He patted his pockets quickly and bit his lip regretfully – he didn’t have any of his knifes on him. 

“I knew your mother. We were on the same crew,” the tall man spoke.

Bilbo felt a sting in his heart. 

His mother.

“You-you knew my mother?” The fear in his voice was replaced by curiosity shadowed by sadness.

“Yes,” the man said with a slight smile, “you are quite similar to her,” he raised his eyebrows.

“Uh...thanks,” Bilbo frowned. 

“Who did you say you were again?”

“I didn’t. I’m Gandalf,”

_ Gandalf! _

Something clicked in Bilbo’s brain. He could remember that name, a distant name from his childhood.

Bilbo felt warm memories flood his mind.

He smiled, “you taught me to read! I remember now, that time I spent with my mother aboard the ship – what was the name of the ship again? But yes, you helped her raise me when we were on sea, god it’s all coming back to me!”

“I am glad you do recall me. And the name of the ship was “Raider’s Revenge”,”

A new wave of remembrance hit Bilbo. He could remember hearing the news of Raider’s Revenge wrecking.

It had happened when he was 14. He was staying with his father in their orange house. His mother and her crew were out pillaging. His father, on the other hand, lived quietly and ran their bookshop. But somehow they made it work. They loved each other, and spent every other week together. That was until the shipwreck.

Bilbo recollected how Gandalf had knocked on their door that peaceful morning and sat all that peace ablaze by telling them about it.

There had been a frightful storm, one that even Raider’s Revenge could not conquer. The ship had sunk somewhere between the shire and the misty sea.

“You-” Bilbo turned in sudden realisation, “you were on the ship! But you lived to tell the tale! How?”

Gandalf was quiet but sent Bilbo a look. He then took out his pipe and lit it, puffing large piles of smoke.

_ Wait- _

Bilbo’s eyes widened. “You have magical powers!”

“Well-”

“Yes! You’re one of the Maiar,” Bilbo gasped. “You-you could have saved her!” he suddenly angered.

“My dear boy,” he started, despite Bilbo being in his mid 40s, “I could not have done so. My powers only came to use after the ship had sunk. I woke up at the floor of the sea, mingled in with the dead bodies of my comrades and the remains of the wrecked ship. Too weak to swim I summoned Thorondor, and he brought me to safer waters.”

Bilbo listened in awe, trying to comprehend that Thorondor, the mythical great whale, wasn’t actually a myth.

“What happened to your mother and the rest of the crew was most regretful. If I could have saved them I would,” He expressed with mournfulness.

The younger man was at loss for words. He hadn’t spoken to anyone about what happened to his mother since his father had passed away. There had always been a part of him that longed to understand it better, to gain acceptance over it. His mother had died way too young.

“But I am not here to mourn your mother.” Gandalf spoke again, “I am here looking for someone to share in a quest for pirate-treasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Kudos and comments are v appreciated x


	3. Settled Dust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so, sorry for not posting this sooner! i’ve been very busy with working, playing tlou2 and spending time w family these past weeks, but i finally found time to write!  
> again many thanks to my trusted friend ju for beta’ing xxx
> 
> enjoy!

Dís made her way down to the harbour, her hands full of fresh vegetables and fruit from the market. 

It was a warm day. She had needed to take off her flower-embroidered blue vest and leave her gear behind in the boat before she had gone out into the streets of the shire, leaving her in only her white linen shirt, loose pale-brown trousers and trusty boots. She had two essential silver-rings that circled around the helix of her left ear, and a strikingly profound scar on her cheek. Her dark-brown hair was untamed, save for a few braids that collected her hair from the front of her head and ran down her nape. The jaw she bore was sharp and always clenched. Her nose was strong and sturdy, just as her dark eyebrows.

These features had earned her some looks while she walked towards the market. The population of Hobbiton only knew peace and quiet and were seemingly shocked to see such a hardy and bustling character walking among them. 

Despite the looks she received, Dís enjoyed the midday business of the town’s streets. She noticed the various workshops and specialized stores. She even saw a bookshop, and was momentarily tempted to enter it, as she hadn’t been in one or bought a new print in ages. 

At last she had arrived at the market. She had been pleasantly surprised by the quality and variety of groceries sold there, as most of the settlements they came by hadn’t many farmers and therefore hadn’t much stock. But Hobbiton was well established. She had noticed how they even had a courthouse, and the people walking by seemed to all be dressed in fabrics of good quality.

 _This must be a popular colony to reside at,_ she considered. Not that settlers had a choice though. To the King and his dukes and commanders, the population were merely means of conquering and colonizing. It made Dís sick, how little the middle and lower classes’ lives were worth to the government.

As she approached the harbour, she noticed a tall, old man dressed in gray robes standing by the dock, puffing on his pipe with his eyes fixated on her.

“Ah, Dís! Just who I was expecting.” The familiar man articulated.

“And I was not expecting to meet you here,” she chuckled and embraced Gandalf, “It’s been a while since I last saw you, my friend.”

Gandalf smiled and declared, “I need to talk to you and your brother. I have come across something I believe will be of great interest to the two of you.”

“Oh? Is it urgent?”

The Mayar nodded.

“Well, The Valiant is docked just down here, follow me,” She gestured towards her ship and lead the way.

“Brother,” Dís called strongly as she boarded The Valiant, quickly spotting Thorin where he stood looking out at the sea ( _does he ever do anything else?_ ).

He turned quickly and met her eyes.

“There is someone here who wishes to speak with us,” she nodded towards Gandalf, who now stepped forward on deck and walked towards Thorin.

“Gandalf!” The captain’s eyes widened. He approached the gray-robed man and quickly hugged him.

“What brings you here?” Thorin wondered.

Gandalf looked from Thorin to Dís, and moved closer to them. “What I am about to tell you is of utmost secrecy. I suggest you sit down for this,” he said, the tone in his voice nothing but serious.

They moved into the shared area of Dís and Thorin’s cabin, where there was a small oak table and some comfortably plump, cushioned chairs. The three of them sat down. Dís and Thorin shifted their attention towards Gandalf.

“Nearly thirty years have passed. The dust has settled. It is time,” He looked at them cleverly.

“Time for what?” Dís and Thorin were puzzled.

Gandalf inhaled deeply and raised his bushy eyebrows before speaking.

“Set sail for the Lonely Isle. Claim your grandfather’s treasure.”

Thorin felt the air being snatched from his lungs. No one outside his family had mentioned his grandfather or his legendary treasure in years. He was taken by surprise when Gandalf spoke of him so bluntly, as if saying his name was so easy.

“It would not be so easily done,” He spoke low, looking away from Gandalf.

“With the right assistance and some luck-”

“I don’t believe in luck,” Thorin grunted before continuing, “and how would we find our way there? The island lies desolated at sea, miles from civilisation. And what if the myth of Smaug is true, how are we to handle that beast?”

Gandalf sighed. “I would be there to aid you with smaug. And never underestimate the power of faith and fortune, Thorin Oakenshield. As for how you were to find it – that is precisely why I am here. I trust you both remember that your father carried a grey key with a square on its end?”

“Yes, what of it?” Dís spoke eagerly.

“I found it. along with a map that shows the way to the island,” 

Thorin and Dís were struck by anticipation.

“You found it? Where?”

“Do you have them with you now?”

“Settle down, settle down,” Gandalf suspired.

“I located them in the dungeon of King Thranduil, in a hoard, among other possessions of pirates and criminals. They must have overseen it as cheap pirate stash when they came by it,” Gandalf said cunningly.

“Did you take them?” Thorin asked eagerly.

“Unfortunately not. The time wasn’t right, I was in the company of guardsmen and simply passing by. I only got a small glimpse of the two objects before we continued further into the dungeons.”

Disappointment ceased Thorn and Dís’s faces.

“Then it is folly. There is no way we could ever get past the guards and take the map and key unseen,” Dís said, gloom more apparent on her features by the minute.

Gandalf’s voice was impeccably ingenious when he answered Dís. “Which is why we are going to need a burglar.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaand i’m very nearly done with chapter four, so i’ll have that one up within the next few days!  
> I’ll generally have loads of time to write these next weeks so i’m certain i’ll be uploading more frequently! 
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated <3


	4. Dust, No Longer Settled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo feels ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 is finally up!  
> As always, much appreciation to Ju for beta'ing <3

One day. Twenty-four hours; that was how long Gandalf had given him to decide. At first he had answered with a no. No way he would ever come on this daring quest of Gandalf’s, this daring quest that would take him as far away from The Shire one could get, and with strangers, strangers who were savage pirates!

But then some obscure part of him had been tempted by Gandalf’s description of the adventure. It had contradicted the no in him, and started an indecisive and inconclusive prospect in his mind.

Bilbo couldn’t sleep. Putting the raging thoughts in his mind at ease was a task not so easily done. He gazed up at the ceiling from where he was laying in his bed, and felt a slight chill.

_ Bugger. I forgot to close the window. _

Bilbo recalled opening the window completely in the morning, and he simply must have forgotten to close it again. When dusk came, the temperature dropped fast.

The burglar got up, feeling temporarily dizzy from standing up too quickly. Shivering, he made his way over to the window and closed it in a hurry. 

The town looked pale in the fading light, the sun had disappeared, but illuminated the grey clouds that lay above the horizon. There were lights in many of the windows of the houses and quite a few down by the harbour; along the docks and on the boats. Just as he was about to turn he noticed a ship in the harbour. It captured his attention and he squinted and tried to see it more clearly in the dull light. It must have arrived sometime during the day, he hadn’t seen it this morning. It was one of the larger ones in the harbour, with three masts and a wide, robust build of dark wood.

For whatever peculiar reason, Bilbo felt a pull towards the ship. He found it cryptic, so bizarre, but it somehow made sense to him too. It felt right. It felt like what he longed for.

Bilbo snapped out of his odd state.

_ Bilbo Baggins, what in the heavens are you thinking...it’s just a ship! _

But it reminded him of the one he knew as a child. Raider’s Revenge. He could see it in his mind now. It was a magnificent and triumphal ship, and it brought back the face of his mother, Belladonna, smiling and looking ever so cheeky as she stood behind the wheel and called for Bilbo to come help steer the ship.

_ The child ran towards its mother. _

_ “Bilbo, do you want to steer her?” _

_ He nodded excitedly and grabbed the wheel with his small hands. It was large compared to him, when he stood behind it he was shorter than it and it was wider than the reach of his arms. But his mother held the other side of the wheel and encouraged him. Together they kept the course, steering gently to the left to straighten up the ship. _

_ “You’re a natural,” Belladonna laughed, looking down at her son. _

_ Bilbo smiled, his chubby cheeks rounding. _

his smile faded. the memories he had of his mother were plentiful, they were bright and warm. But sometimes they were painful, cause they reminded him that he no longer had the opportunity to create new ones with her.

Then he remembered the chest that was placed in the corner of the room. He quickly spotted it, it was quite dusty; Bilbo hadn’t opened it in years. He had been scared to, he didn’t want to be reminded of her by the objects he would find in it, he didn’t want to lose the closure he had built up over the decades that had passed.

But now he felt ready. He found the key to the chest’s lock and the oil-lamp that was placed on his nightstand, lit the lamp and brought it over to the chest with him.

A slight feeling of anxiety started building up in his chest. He closed his eyes, frowned, inhaled deeply. 

When he opened his eyes, he felt like the past day had been leading up to this, the odd events that occurred were just what he needed to be able to face his mother’s belongings.

There was no shaking in his hands as he gently unlocked the chest’s rusty metal-lock. After removing it, he took a moment to admire the chest. It was built out of oak, and had simplistic flowers in red and blue painted around the opening, which were brought together by a long, stretching vine, painted in green. The chest was embellished by a thin layer of polish. Though it was old, it was still charmful.

_ “Your mother passed the items in this chest to you. The chest is yours now, you may do with it and its content as you wish,” Gandalf smiled down on Bilbo sadly, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. _

_ Bilbo didn’t know what to say. Just the thought of that his mother had put aside some of her belongings for him over the years made his sorrow intensify. The chest scared him. There was no way he was ready to open it yet. _

But now, he felt he had no choice. He  _ needed  _ to uncover what lay in the chest. 

Holding his breath, Bilbo gently opened it. 

He was taken by surprise by what he found.

Anticipating that the chest would be filled only with gold, he looked at the breathtaking objects before him. Of course, there were a good amount of golden treasure in it, but what he wasn’t expecting to find was his mother’s outstandingly red headband. Bilbo smiled to himself.

“I wasn’t expecting to find you in here. I thought you went down with the ship…”

His mother always wore the headband. Wherever she went, the striking red velvet was folded in half over her forehead and tied behind her head. Just looking at it made his mother so much more real, it made her so solid, but now it didn’t hurt, now it made Bilbo glad. It made him joyful to know that he still had this little piece of her with him.

He put the headband aside and looked into the chest once more. He noticed a small, leather box laying among the gold. Picking it up and rotating it in the light from the lamp, he noticed the initials B.B. engraved into it.

“Now, what do you keep…” he spoke to himself.

Bilbo had never seen the box before, but he immediately knew it belonged to his mother.

His fingers fumbled with curiosity as he opened it.

Inside, he discovered two perfectly-round golden earrings.

_ Of course. _

Studying the earrings fondly, he recollected how Belladonna always wore them along with her headband. He remembered how remarkably bright they glistened in the sunlight, when the sky was blue and the sails were full of wind.

Putting what was in his hands aside once more, he spotted a black leather sheath, with a golden handle sticking out of it.

Bilbo’s jaw dropped.

_ There’s no way… _

If he was remembering correctly, the sheath before him holstered his mother’s sabre.

As slowly yet eagerly as ever, he withdrew the sheath from the chest and gripped the handle with his right hand. 

Holding his breath, feeling his blood surge, he drew the sabre out of its sheath. He was struck by its magnificence. 

The sword was curved and thicker at its end. Unless Bilbo’s eyes were deceiving him, the blade still looked sharp, and there wasn’t any damage on it, it looked shiny, as if it was new. It was like some sort of magic; it was unexplainable how the sabre was in maximal condition, and how it was in the chest in the first place. Bilbo knew that his mother never left their house without her sabre on her, least for the sea!

_ How on earth did she not have her sword? _

Though the sword was baffling, Bilbo marvelled at the sight and feel of it. It was light and relatively small. He himself didn’t know how to use a sabre (though his mother and Gandalf had let him practice with a wooden one when he was a child), he had always preferred the stealthy switch-blade his mother had gifted him. But considering the weight and size of it and that his mother had used it, Bilbo imagined that it wouldn’t be very difficult for him to master.

He suddenly felt the need to try on his mother’s accessories. He brought them over to the round glass-mirror on the wall, placing the lamp on the table beneath it. 

He folded the headband and brought it around his head, tying it. It looked good, covering some of his forehead, auburn curls from his hair falling over it, his brow arched in pride just below it.

Then there were the earrings. Bilbo had pierced his ears when he was young and wore earrings all of his childhood, but had stopped after his mother died. Wondering if the holes on his ear-lobes had grown shut, he pressed the end of the earring into the visible mark on his left ear-lobe. It took some struggle, but the earring finally slid through, and Bilbo triumphantly secured it. He quickly put on the other golden ring as well.

Lastly, he picked up the sheath and fastened it onto his belt.

Bilbo looked back up. The mirror reflected his image and it struck him, it overcame him, it felt so incredibly right, to carry his mother’s legacy on his figure like this. He drew the sabre with his right hand and regarded how he looked with it. A bit clumsy of course, but he adjusted his stance and quickly discovered that he fitted the sabre very well.

He felt a newfound, overwhelming sense of urge, adventure, of will to honour his mother.

He made up his mind.

_ I’m a pirate. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUUUUCK YES !!! BILBOS A PIRATE !!!
> 
> on a more serious note, I hope my descriptions are clear enough for you to have a certain image of how the characters appear!
> 
> Kudos and comments make me very happy xx


	5. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo leaves his home behind and meets the crew of The Valiant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been such a blast to write! A fair bit of research has gone into it though (sailing is a hobby of mine, but I did have to read myself up on 16th-18th century ships, it was v intriguing though!)
> 
> BUT I'm not going to spoil by going into details, so, please enjoy!
> 
> Many thanks again to Ju for beta'ing <3 I appreciate you so much

Bilbo woke up the next day to a mistiful morning. Fog was sweeping in on Hobbiton from the sea, filling the streets with a thin whiteness. 

After getting out of bed and looking out through his window, he sighed at the gloomy scene. An eerie feeling crept up on him. Fog had always made him feel uneasy, but in an intriguing way; something about the mystique it bore with it called to him. It made Bilbo want to go out and into it to uncover its secrets. 

It dawned on him that he was about to do exactly that today.

He quickly revived his mind and body, straightening his back and stretching out, slapping his cheeks to waken himself up a bit more.

He checked his clock.

_Gandalf said he’d be here at eight, and now it’s seven. One hour._

Bilbo couldn’t contain his excitement. He had to shout it, “One hour!”

As usual, he enjoyed his morning tea in his garden. The weather was colder than yesterday, so he wrapped a green scarf around his throat before heading out.

Bilbo sat in his rusty chair, looked out on his small crop and his flowers, relished the herbs in the tea, felt his body quickening up more.

He didn’t realise then that it’d be the last time he’d see his garden in many years.

Eventually his uncle arrived – he co-owned the shop with Bilbo, and came every day at half past seven to work behind the counter and to look after their economy. But today Bilbo had a much greater duty to entrust him with.

“I’m leaving today,” Bibo announced as he hastily ran around packing.

“What? Where to? This is highly unusual, Bilbo, you can’t just suddenly-”

“Yes I can, and-and I will! _Baggins Books Co._ will be completely yours now!” Optimism was apparent in Bilbo’s voice, as if having sole responsibility of an entire business was something positive.

His uncle was speechless. His face shifted from shocked, to stunned, to angry.

Bilbo continued stuffing clothes in his bag, not noticing his uncle’s shifting expression.

“And I’d be indefinitely grateful if you’d look after my garden as well, just pop in once a day and tend to it, if needed,” he said, confident that his father’s brother would do exactly as he requested.

“So that’s it, then? You’re leaving, just like that?” His uncle was fuming.

“Oh don’t be dramatic about it, I’ll be back before you know it!” 

“Dramatic? DRAMATIC? And exactly how long is it you’ll be away for? And where are you even going?” He had a funny look of combined confusion and anger.

Before Bilbo had time to make up an answer, his uncle was stunned even further. This time it was from Gandalf’s odd figure appearing in the doorway.

“Bilbo? Are you quite ready to go?”

“Ah, one minute!” He yelled from his bedroom, closing his bag, catching sight of his mother’s objects, sighing with relief that he hadn’t forgotten them. Before running down the stairs to greet Gandalf, he hurriedly put on the earrings, tied the headband around his head, and lastly, fastened the sabre to his belt by its sheath.

Downstairs, he met two very contrasting facial appearances.

His uncle was still completely in a state of shock, looking from the gray clothed and haired man to his right, to the most bizzare version of his nephew he had ever witnessed.

Gandalf laughed lightly and shook his head in bewilderment, “Well, look at you! Bilbo Baggins, I think you are quite ready indeed.”

To Bilbo, Gandalf looked like a proud grandfather. Bilbo smiled back at him, fully embracing his new yet strangely familiar self.

While Gandalf and Bilbo were approaching the harbour, the fog started to evaporate. As the mist vanished, the ship Bilbo had been peculiarly drawn to last night started appearing in the distance.

“That ship, the large one that is docked at the end of the pier, do you know it?” He asked Gandalf.

“Ah. It is _The Valiant_ , a reputable pirate-ship.” Gandalf looked down on him, raising his brows with earnest as he spoke, “it also happens to be the ship of the crew with whom you are about to go on a quest,” the Maiar finished knowingly.

Bilbo was flabbergasted. He felt a gigantic sense of astonishment wash over him. The ship he’d been so fixated on, the one he couldn’t stop looking at or thinking about, was the ship he was going to board in mere minutes.

As they continued coming nearer The Valiant, Bilbo absorbed her colossal grandeur. She was a full-rigged ship, which meant that her sail plan consisted of three masts, whereas two of the masts had two sails, and the aftmost mast had one spanker-sail. Her bowsprit hosted three jib sails. The hull of the ship was embellished with infinite carvings around her stern in golden paint, and with geometric patterns in metal going around her bow, on the bowsprit and on the rails along the gunwale. The hull itself and the masts were built out of dark wood (which Bilbo was already aware of), something that looked like mahogany from its reddish hue.

When they arrived at the ship, they were greeted by the crew lining up in front of them. Gandalf gladly introduced Bilbo to each of them.

“Bilbo, allow me to introduce you to Gloin, the master pilot of the crew,” he said, and gestured towards a tough looking fellow with solid features and a great, red beard. The man nodded towards Bilbo approvingly while Gandalf continued down the line. “And here’s Gimli, who’s his son and the second pilot,” he referred to the younger looking duplicate of Gloin, “and Oin, his brother and the crew’s surgeon.” He described the man standing beside Gimli, who looked older than the previous two, with a gray beard that had braids running down from the moustache, and a great, sharp nose.

“And these are the brothers Bombur, Bifur and Bofur. Bombur is the cook, while Bifur and Bofur are the ship’s two carpenters.”

All three of them looked friendly. Bombur was plump and had a fringe as well as a braid that served as part of his beard, but reminded Bilbo of a necklace. Bifur on the other hand, had black and messy hair, running wildly down his back, and a great deal of white in his beard. Smiling, Bofur wore a brown leather hat with flaps that pointed outwards, and had a similar moustache and braids in his hair.

“Then there’s Nori, the sea-artist (the navigator),” he now motioned towards a pirate with brown hair shaped into three spikes, metal chains running though it to keep it in place. Bilbo also noticed that his left ear was pierced. From the piercing hung yet another silver chain, a thicker one, which went from his ear to his nose, where it was fastened on a piercing on his nostril.

“–as well Dori and Ori, the strikers (the hunters and fishermen).” Dori wore a black, round hat on his white hair while Ori had soft features and light-brown hair.

“These young rascals are Fíli and Kíli, the junior gunners.” The two brothers smiled cheekily, they both had handsome features, though quite opposing colours of their hair. Fíli was blonde and braided, while Kíli was a brunette and had no facial hair nor braids.

“And this is–“

“Dwalin, master boatswain,” The tall man cut Gandalf off with his dark voice. He was shirtless save for a belt that hung over his shoulder, which hosted a dagger on his chest and dual axes on his back. He had an exceptionally muscular torso and arms. His chest was stout, the nipples upon them were pierced. There was no hair to be found on his head. Instead, tattoos covered his baldness (bilbo noticed that the tattoos bore similar patterns as the ones the ship’s decoration had). Additionally, he had a thick, dark beard

“and I’m Balin, the quartermaster. A pleasure.” The pirate smiled formally towards him. His white hair was slicked back, and his same coloured beard was long and straight.

Next, a woman turned towards him with a strong features and a stronger gaze. “Dís. Master-gunner, first mate, mother to those so-called rascals,” she smiled. Bilbo immediately understood where the brothers got their mischievous smiles from. She had two twin-pistols holsters at her hips, yet appeared as welcoming.

“And lastly, Gandalf spoke again, “there’s Thorin Oakenshield, the captain of _The Valiant.”_

The last man turned from where he was standing and faced Bilbo. He looked like the male version of Dís, with the same sun-kissed skin, dark-brown and long hair (though his had some silver streaks too), indomitable characteristics and piercingly blue eyes. However, his expression felt much less welcoming.

“So, this is the burglar, Bilbo Baggins...” Thorin said as he interrogated Bilbo with his gaze.

“And assassin,” Gandalf added with a careful smile.

“Assassin?” The captain was dumbfounded. Looking down on the seemingly fragile creature in front of him, he seemed anything but an assassin. He had soft skin and small hands, Thorin noted, clearly nothing even resembling a person who kills people for pay.

“And bookshop-owner, if i might add,” Gandalf declared yet again, this time smiling more surely.

“Now that seems more believable,” Thorin said pompously. The comment earned him a few laughs from his crew, and a look of bafflement on the alleged ‘assassin’.

“Careful with your words, Thorin...Before you know it, you’ll have your tongue cut out in your sleep,” Gandalf defended Bilbo.

“I highly doubt it,” he snorted, not sparing Bilbo a glance before he turned towards his crew, “let’s load the last of the cargo and get out of this cursed harbour. We have a long day of sailing ahead of us!” 

Thorin started walking towards the ship. But before he could take more than a few steps, someone swiftly and effortlessly put him to the ground by maneuvering his feet and chest, and he felt cool and sharp steel against his throat. He looked up to see the burglar/assassin/bookshop-owner standing above him, controlledly pressing a blade again his throat.

Bilbo’s subtle smile was triumphant as he spoke, “you heard what Gandalf said. I won’t have you or anyone else disrespect me, especially as I’m here willingly to aid you. Understand?” His voice was calm.

Thorin was too furious to consider what Bilbo was saying. 

“Get off me,” he growled.

Bilbo didn’t budge. 

The silence was unbearable, until Gandalf finally broke it, “Bilbo...let him go, hm?”

Bilbo sighted and got up effortlessly, offering Thorin his hand as he got up. Offended by the gesture, he got up and ignored the assassin completely.

“What are you all standing around for? Get on with it!” Thorin ordered his crew, more than irritated. He had a provoking thought that this ‘Bilbo Baggins’ would be a burden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me if there were any terms you didn't understand and i'll explain them to you! There will be a vocabulary of sailing/ship words used from now on so I might start including an explanation for them in the notes, please let me know if this is something you'd like!
> 
> Comments and kudos are very appreciated <3


	6. Clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Éowyn is hopeful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks again to Ju for beta’ing <3
> 
> I’m very excited about this chapter, as it is an introduction to Éowyn in this story! Enjoy!

South-eastward, far from The Shire, clouds were moving in on the sky above Rohan. In all their might they towered up, forming great and pale pillars against the thin blue of the sky’s dome. Mightier yet were the winds. They moved and shaped the tumbling clouds, collapsing them behind the mountains, which were erected from the increasingly stirring sea.

Éowyn stood in awe. The strength of nature, its powerful influence on everything in the world, had always fascinated her. The pirate town of Edoras was at the end of a long stretching fjord, where mountains were all around, protecting the town from the harsh weather rolling in on the sea. 

But Éowyn could see it in the distance. The violent and intense waves, crashing and crashing, manipulating the few ships she could see out there.

Though they looked to be in hardship, Éowyn longed for them. She was grateful for the home she had in Edoras, for the home Théoden had given her, but she was no longer a child. She used to be content with the stories Théoden would tell her about his adventures. She would sit and listen patiently, enjoying the tales of plundering, warfare and pirating. However, now she only sighed and got annoyed, for she herself desired to be in those tales, to experience them, to make them her own. 

If only she could join a crew, if only she could persuade Théoden to let her join one (after all, he was the Pirate King, so he had a great deal of controlling power), if only she could get a chance...

She knew it was fruitless.

Yet she allowed herself to hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are very appreciated x


	7. Seaborne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haven’t posted on this fic in over a month, and for that i am sooo sorry! i’ve been very busy but luckily i’ve found time to write now and again!  
> many thanks to ju for beta’ing <3

Thorin was, for the fourth time that day, looking outwards at the horizon. Though this time around The Valiant was seaborne. And, to his disliking, there was a new crew-member aboard.  _ Not so much a crew-member, more of a passenger,  _ Thorin thought bitterly.

He looked to the deck of the ship, where his crew were busy with the tasks he had appointed them a moment ago. The ship was making good steed, the winds were in their favour today and all of the sails of the full-rig were in use. The wind felt blissful, refreshing and invigorating. Refreshing too, was the quiet of the still sea. No bothersome sounds of a town were to be heard, just the waves crashing against the hull and crewmates chatting on deck. 

He realised that he had gotten distracted by the sea yet again and looked away from it. Turning his attention back to the deck, he quickly spotted the burglar. He stood alone, touching the palms of his hands, an expression of pain on his face. His eyes were set on his hands, yet he shifted them upwards, catching Thorin’s gaze from across the deck. He seemed confused, and Thorin immediately looked away, hurrying to find something else to fasten his focus to. Luckily Dwalin was standing nearby. Thorin strode towards him.

“How’s it coming along?” He asked him as he approached, and Dwalin looked up from the anchor he was occupied with polishing. 

“Good. None of the anchors have any damage, they’re just grimed. Figured I’d polish them myself as everyone else is busy,” Dwalin said, his face perfectly neutral, but Thorin could tell that he was displeased with having to do a task that was so below him, a proud boatswain.

“May it be a humbling experience,” Thorin said smugly.

“Shut it, you scallywag,” Dwalin tried to insult his friend, who chuckled in return.

“And the chain of the bow anchor will have to be replaced,” Dwalin added.

“All right, I’ll ask Balin to go to that ship-chandler Théoden recommended when we get to Edoras.”

“Aye. Should be about a fortnight of sailing,”

“Give or take, depends on how much trouble we run into,” Thorin spoke.

“Let’s hope no foe knows of our quest yet. Though I’d wager it’s just a question of time,” Dwalin contemplated.

“You sounded awfully like Gandalf there,” Dis bantered as she joined them, smiling.

“So, Thorin, that was quite the embarrassment earlier,” she changed the topic of the conversation, still grinning.

Thorin sighed, “I don’t wish to speak about it,” he muttered.

“Too bad,” Dis replied, “I thoroughly enjoyed the look on your face,”

Dwalin snickered, “Me too. Now  _ that  _ was a humbling experience.” He said, very self-pleased for getting back at Thorin.

“Why don’t you both get back to work instead of standing here mocking me,” the captain sounded offended as he spoke.

“Cheer up, brother! It wasn’t that bad,” Dis slapped his shoulder.

“It was, that  _ grocer  _ does not belong here. He knows nothing of sea-faring and has no muscle for it either. I cannot understand what Gandalf sees in him,” Thorin was agitated.

“Maybe he doesn’t have any experience aboard a ship, but we’ll teach him! Few ever understand Gandalf’s choices, but we have yet to see the end of this, and I do not doubt his decision. The burglar seems to have strengths that we have yet to discover, I am sure that is what Gandalf sees in him,” Dis mused.

Thorin snorted. Strengths? The only strength the burglar seemed to possess was one of ridiculing Thorin. And he dared deem respect?

Dwalin was silent, but Dis spoke again, “I know what you are thinking. You can be utterly obstinate sometimes, Thorin dear. Just give him a chance, okay? I agree with Gandalf that there might be more to him than meets the eye. And his skill at putting someone to the ground will be useful, even you have to admit that,” she paused, searching her brother’s face for a change of mind, but found none. Sighing, she gave up. “I’ve had enough of this, and I promised Fi and Ki I’d help them move the cannon-balls down from the deck.” With that, Dis left.

***

There was no way of telling how long Bilbo had been lying in the dark trying to sleep. The sounds of the wood of the ship creaking and the sea lulling the boat had all melted into static; once soothing, but now he found it increasingly louder.

If everything could just be quiet, would Bilbo be able to sleep? 

No. He would still have his thoughts. No matter what, he was not getting rid of his thoughts. 

Oh, how he would like to be home, in his soft bed, in his quiet room, all alone and comfortable. 

Instead he was here, in a swaying hammock,  _ pirates _ snoring next to him, not very comfortable at all.

Bilbo wasn’t young anymore. It had been foolish of him to think that this was a good idea, that he would be fine with such a shabby way of living, that he wouldn’t be dreaming of his bed instead of actually sleeping. That he could just put on his mother’s earrings and headband and be okay.

His neck hurt. His legs were aching. His palms, arms and shoulders were sore from the work on deck he had to endure,  _ and will have to endure tomorrow,  _ he thought, and sighed.

He thought about the crew, how used they must be to all the strain. 

They had followed their captain’s orders without any hesitation. 

_ They must either be scared of him, or so loyal that they do not doubt him for a second,  _ Bilbo wondered which it was. And he wondered if he was scared of Captain Oakenshield, if he was intimidated by him, intimidated by the way he was so sceptical of Bilbo.

Maybe it was the fact that he thought Bilbo had no use aboard his ship?

A few more minutes went by, and Bilbo couldn’t take it anymore. There was no use in laying here if he wasn’t going to sleep, so he got out of his hammock and tiptoed up on deck.

As the loudness of pirates sleeping and wood creaking faded away, he was caressed by the gentle wind. 

He inhaled. The smell of the sea filled his nose. It was strange how nostalgic it made him feel. It was strange, indeed, that if he just closed his eyes, the sensations could make him feel like he was standing beside his mother, gazing out on the horizon.

But he wasn’t.

His mother wasn’t here. Bilbo was alone.

He opened his eyes and gripped the handrails on the boat, sighing and feeling his heart beating faster and a pit forming in his guts.

_ Not this again,  _ he thought, the pit pulling in all his energy. Bilbo gripped the handrails harder, wanting to bring himself back to his surroundings, trying to ground himself, but it was so difficult, so difficult because his head was spinning faster and he couldn’t catch his breath. He felt dizzy, he felt like he was about to die, like his heart would get pulled into the pit and stop beating.

Time slowed down as he managed to gain control over his breath again. Every time he inhaled, the sea-air seemed to fight the pit, making it smaller.

When he managed to open his eyes again he felt in control. His anxiety had been a reappearing struggle ever since his mother died, but whenever he knew it was ending he also knew he would be able to keep himself calm for at least the next hours. Sometimes for the next weeks, months, years. He hadn’t struggled with panic attacks in years now, but of course it had to return when he least needed it, here on a damned pirate-ship, surrounded by strangers and sea everywhere he looked.

“Master Baggins? Are you alright?”

Bilbo stiffened as he heard someone speak behind him.

He turned to see the Master Gunner standing behind him. What was her name again?

_ Dis. _

The look of concern on her face brought out her weariness. The slight moonlight made the scar on her cheek more visible, the scar that ran from right under her eye to her mouth.

Bilbo flinched. It was deep and wide, and still had redness lingering.

The burglar wondered what she endured when she got it. He wondered  _ how  _ much she had endured.

“Ah, the scar’s putting you off,” Dis spoke. There was an unexpected friendliness in her voice.

“No! No-” Bilbo stressed.

“Don’t worry, master burglar. I am quite used to it,” She smiled sadly.

Bilbo looked at her with concern, “I truly meant no disrespect, I am sorry.”

There was a pause.

“You’re probably wondering how I got it.”

“If it’s not impolite to ask?” Bilbo tried carefully.

Dis chuckled.

“It’s a lifetime ago now – a battle. It claimed Thror, our grandfather, Frerin, our brother, and Vili, Fili and Kili’s father. Thrain, our father, was lost. We never found his body. Before the battle broke loose we were ambushed, a fucker snuck up behind me and tried to shove his dagger into my eye. I got away from his confrontation, but in doing so his dagger slashed down my cheek. But I got vengeance, by putting two pretty holes into him; one with each pistol,” she smirked. But the shallow joy faded soon enough, bringing forth the lingering grief on her face, which seemed to grow paler. Bilbo again thought of how much resemblance her face bore to Thorin’s. Thorin must have also faced the same loss and grief, he must’ve also had to go on caring for his crew and family, he must’ve also had to carry all the guilt and scars.

“Oh, I...I am so sorry, Dis. It must have been difficult.”

“I’m just grateful for my boys. Fili and Kili were too young to remember it, they’re always so cheerful,” she smiled to herself.

“But Thorin – Thorin’s never really let go, though I think a small part of him wants to. I want to see him untroubled, but he holds on to so much.” Dis shook her head and turned to the moon.

“I understand. Well – I...when I was 16 my mother was lost in a storm. The shipwreck is out there at the bottom of the ocean somewhere, she was a pirate just like you lot,” Bilbo smiled.

Dis turned back to Bilbo, her eyes glistening with empathy. “I am sorry about how my brother’s treating you. He has a difficult time accepting new people, but he’ll come around. I’ll see to it.”

“Thank you. I’ll try my best at helping around on deck, though my arms are skinny as rope.”

Dis put her hand on his arm reassuringly, “Don’t worry, Bilbo. We’ll make a pirate out of you soon enough”, she winked, “good night, master burglar,” grinning, she turned and walked towards her cabin.

Bilbo stood on the deck for a while longer. The sea rumbled quietly and the moon illuminated it, yet it was infinitely dark under all the light on the surface.

He reached for his ear and found one of his mother’s earrings. Bilbo fiddled it and sighed.

Maybe it was still in him. Maybe it never faded; The courage, the adventurousness, the fierce spirit his mother had.

Somewhere down there in the deep dark she was buried, forever rotting in a shipwreck.

Bilbo decided that he would not let her spirit rot along with her body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! please leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> Who can it be and what does he want to talk to Thorin and Dís about??? 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are very appreciated!


End file.
